Independence Day
by fagur fiskur
Summary: Iceland has declared independence from Denmark under less than ideal circumstances. Norway pops by for an explanation.


This is the tiniest fandom I have ever written for, aside from Pleasantville (and I'm not even sure I can count that). But once I found out it had its own section on this site I kind of had to try my hand at it.

In 1944, Iceland declared its independence from Denmark. This was during the midst of Nazi Germany's occupation of Denmark and so Iceland's decision to declare independence right at that time could be regarded as something of a dick move. Of course, it wasn't quite that simple; there's a lot of history between the two nations to consider but then this is fan fiction, not a history lesson. I just wanted to write a cute brother-ly conversation between Iceland and Norway and this ended up being the subject matter.

* * *

**Indipendence Day**

"Iceland? Are you in there?"

Iceland rolled his eyes and ate another mouthful of skyr. It figured that Denmark would send Norway over for meditating rather than coming himself. Admittedly, it wasn't exactly like Denmark could leave his house right now. "It's not locked."

"I know," came Norway's pained response. "But one of your lava demons is out here and it won't let me in."

"Just shove it out of the way," Iceland said. Honestly, he couldn't understand why the other nations had such a hard time being around the demons. Especially someone like Norway, who had several pet bears.

There was a brief scuttle outside, then the door opened, letting in Norway. "I had to kick it. Sorry."

Iceland waved his hand. "It's fine."

Norway closed the door behind him and came to sit next to Iceland, looking deeply uncomfortable.

"I guess you're not here to congratulate me," Iceland began in what he hoped was a casual tone of voice.

"You didn't pick the best time to declare your independence," Norway said accusingly.

Iceland put down his skyr. "I've been waiting to do it for a while."

"But during the middle of a war-"

"There's always a war," Iceland interrupted. "There are always going to be wars."

"Not like this and you know it."

Iceland was very aware that he was pouting but he didn't care. This wasn't the way he'd wanted this conversation to go. He'd wanted his brother to be _happy_ for him but that was apparently too much to ask.

"Denmark is under Nazi Germany's occupation," Norway stressed. "He's got enough to worry about."

"I'm under America's occupation but you don't see me complaining," Iceland muttered. At Norway's incredulous look, he crossed his arms stubbornly. "America hasn't stopped hitting on my sister since he got here. She's going to end up running away with him."

Norway snorted. "You said the exact same thing the last time Brother France was over. Look how that turned out."

Iceland blushed. "We are not talking about that."

"No, we're not," Norway agreed. "What you did really hurt Denmark."

"No more than he's hurt me," Iceland insisted. "You're my brother and I love you, but your boyfriend is an asshole. He spread rumors that I had lice."

"You did," Norway pointed out fairly.

"For years, he asked me what it was like to live in a hole in the ground every single time we met. Just because there's grass growing on my roof that does _not_ mean I live below ground."

"Okay, that wasn't very nice of him, but-"

"He literally _starved me_, Norway."

Norway slumped. "I know. But he's changed since then, and he's really sorry about it."

"Sorry doesn't change the fact that I had to eat my own shoelaces," Iceland said coldly. "And even if he has changed, it's about time that I try to live on my own again. I haven't in over seven-hundred years."

There was a long silence.

"It's probably for the best," Norway allowed at last. "I just wish you hadn't done it like this."

Iceland didn't but he knew better than to say it out loud. "I know, but I can't change that now."

Norway smiled and poked his brother's side with his elbow. "You're a pretty terrible roommate, anyway." Iceland glared at him and he laughed. "I'm serious. You almost never paid your share of the bills."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't."

Iceland picked up the skyr again and wordlessly offered Norway some. For a while, the only sounds in the room were of the two brothers eating and the distant rumble of the lava demons playing outside.

"Could you," Iceland started, swallowing past the guilty lump in his throat, "could you tell Denmark that I'm sorry the next time you see him?"

Norway nodded, looking vaguely ill. "I will."

"I'm sure he's fine," Iceland added lamely. "I've heard Nazi Germany might be forced to retreat soon."

"You're probably right." Norway reached over and patted Iceland on the back. "Congratulations on your independence."

"Takk."

* * *

I know I said that this wasn't a history lesson, but I thought I'd throw in a bit of trivia anyway just for fun.

During Britain's, and later the United State's, occupation of Iceland during the Second world war, a lot of Icelandic women started dating soldiers. Apparently the soldiers were quite charming and polite next to the avarage Icelandic man. It got to the point where Icelandic men were literally declaring it a national emergency.

A few centuries earlier, there were a lot of French sailors stopping over in Iceland on their fishing boats and they also liked dem Icelandic ladies. Again, the Icelandic men got really jealous. To make a long story short, the Icelandic word for a gay man (hommi) is directly taken from the french word for a man (homme) because the mature gentleman's response when he doesn't like something has apparently always been to call it gay.

Denmark's treatment of Iceland is taken from several historical accounts, as well as Halldór Laxness's novel "Iceland's Bell", a historical fiction.

Oh, and skyr is an Icelandic delicacy that's similar to yogurt. It is delicious. And "takk" means "thanks", in case that wasn't clear.


End file.
